Hunter or hunted
by ChuckNorris'ssister
Summary: A lone Hunter is caught between a rock and a hard place. Torn between her infected instincts and her new uninfected pack, Bleeding Claw, the huntress, must make a choice.
1. Prologue

Gunfire echoed through the now abandoned city, screams piercing the air only to be drowned out by the hoard. Such was the life in Mercy city.

The irony.

A lone Hunter stalked a small group of four, the bright pink hoodie making stealth difficult. The Hunter's chocolate brown hair fell in tangled strands around the hood, which was promptly stuffed back inside. This was no ordinary Hunter.

It was a Huntress.

She growled lowly, frustrated with the snarls. She pulled back the hoodie, blood caked hands running through the matted mess. She turned, hearing something. She growled in warning, readying herself to pounce if necessary.

She was smaller than most Hunters, more suited for speed than stealth ambush, meaning she had to be careful. Of course she was no pushover, but size meant strength in her world. But rather than kill with brute strength like a muscled Raging One or stealth like her Pouncing brethren, she was built for speed.

She was built more like an animal, strong hindquarters and long arms proportional to her legs. Her claws were stained with bloody chunks, and her pink hoodie covered her dark amethyst eyes. Unlike her Pouncing bretheren, she was adept at sprinting on all fours rather that leaping, weaving between uninfected legs and slashing at them.

"Careful! There's a Hunter round here.." The uninfected made noise, but it was all meaningless gibberish to her ears. It sounded male, with a chipper tone in it's voice. Like a young pup after it's first hunt. She backed up against a dark corner, waiting silently.

If she didn't move, perhaps they would pass by.

"I don't know Louis... It didn't sound quite right."

Another spoke, this time a female, the words nothing but some unknown language. She understood a few words, like "gun", or "quiet", but the rest only made her head ache when she thought about it. This one was a possible omega, a motherly figure still retaining some threat.

"Whatever it is, I'm gonna beat the crap outta it like everything else I've been facing!" A gruff male shouted, making her head pound. This one was probably the beta pack member, trying to outdo everyone else.

"You mean everything we've been facing, Francis. Don't be an ass." An elder male added, it's tone registering as the obvious alpha male ordering the beta to stand down. The footsteps approached the door she had hidden behind, and she froze completely.

Nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide.

Oh, how the Hunter becomes the Hunted.

She saw what their flashing sticks did to the lessors.

Like hell if she'd let them catch her this easily.

She crouched silently, ready for anything.


	2. Chapter 1: Hunter

The first thing that came with infection?

Pain.

Horrible, blinding pain. Like millions of jabbing swords slicing at her legs and arms. And then there was this awful itch. It started on her arms, then increased up to her face and neck.

It wouldn't stop. No matter how she scratched or clawed, that damn itching wouldn't go away.

By the time it stopped, Amy Dodger was no longer human. Her mind was twisted past recognition, and for a time it stayed that way.

She didn't remember who she was, nor what she was doing. Her only goal was surviving.

 _"Survival's a lifestyle."_ She muttered, speaking in infected tongues. She anxiously tapped a claw on the ground, waiting for the uninfected to find her.

If she was quick enough, perhaps she could evade their loud flashing sticks and return to her den.

But nothing came.

She sniffed the air for their scents, confused. They were indeed still in the area, but had walked right past her hiding spot.

Stupid uninfected.

Now she just needed to get out without alerting them to her presence.

Easier said than done. As idiotic as the uninfected were, they had powerful weapons and surprising resilience. She would have to be careful. She trotted up to the door, about to smash it in, when she noticed the shiny knob attached to it. She remembered watching uninfected pull on these, opening the doors without breaking them. Perhaps if she were to pull as well...

She grasped her claws around the cold metal knob, pulling the thing as hard as she could. The door didn't budge. She huffed. What was she missing? She racked her mind, trying to think back to when she saw it, when her hand slipped, twisting the knob and opening the door. She purred in triumph, steadying herself while nudging the door open further, and searching for the group. They were close.

As soon as the door was opened wide enough, she ran. With blinding speed, she hurtled through corridors on all fours, careful to stay out of their range of sight. Finally, she reached her den. The familiar sight of the bright red door welcomed her as she dove underneath a pile of soft blankets, purring is satisfaction.

She did it.

Slowly, she relaxed into the soft pile, falling into a light sleep


	3. Chapter 2: Hunted

_(Just a little clarification here)_

"This is normal speech."

 _'This is normal thoughts.'_

 _"This is infected speech"_

On to the story!

* * *

"There's a Safe house over there! Finally."

Louis exclaimed, feeling exhausted from everything that occurred. First there was the pawn shop fiasco, then the sewer, and now they reached Mercy Hospital, half dead but still kicking.

It was getting harder and harder to stay positive these days.

"About damn time! Even my ass hurts."

Francis barked, limping slowly behind the group. Bill fared little better, his bum leg having ceased up a while ago. He grumbled, something about wartime injuries being much worse. Zoey was mentally worn out, but otherwise she was fine.

"Quit your complaining, Francis. We're alive, right? There bound to be some medkits in the Safe house." She reasoned, shutting him up.

That, and she was pointing a desert cobra at him.

Louis chuckled, rolling his eyes. Out of all the people he could have met, he was stuck with a cranky biker, a gruff veteran, and a horror movie fanatic.

They were all crazy, but, then again, so was he. Besides, it's not like there was anyone else left. As far as he knew, everyone else had been infected or evacuated already.

Louis reached the red door, moving to open the door, surprised when it was already opened.

Was someone already here?

"Uh... Guys? The door's already open." He stated.

"If someone else made it before us, that means we aren't the only immune ones!" Zoey smiled, excited at the idea that she might not be the last woman left.

"Now now, we don't know that for certain." Bill added, careful not to get our hopes up. Francis sneered. "It better not be some jackass. That's my job."

Louis slipped inside the safe house, raising an eyebrow at the interior. It was a total mess, tables knocked over and chairs stacked on top of each other. A large pile of blankets laid in a dark corner, untouched by the chaos.

"What the hell happened here? Did a Tank redecorate this place?" He asked no one in particular, sitting down on a plush chair. The others didn't respond, too preoccupied with applying first aid.

Louis sighed, pushing a file cabinet in front of the door, turning off the light so they could get some rest.

The others fell asleep quickly, snoring peacefully as Louis tossed and turned.

 _'Just my luck. I'm tired all day, but when we finally get a chance to rest, I can't sleep.'_ He thought bitterly. He laid there in the darkness, keeping silent so the others could rest.

He didn't know how long he laid there, but he was getting bored. Just when he was about to close his eyes, he heard soft growls from the corner of the room. Quietly, he turned his head towards the sound, straining his eyes to see.

The pile of blankets shifted, a slim figure shaking the blankets off.

It's black silhouette was a strange sight, crouched on all fours, similarly to a Hunter. The figure paused, smelling the air. His eyes widened as it turned to face him.

This was bad.

The figure approached him slowly, the soft clinking of claws against the concrete floor making him wince. He braced himself for the worst.

But nothing came.

Confused, Louis slowly opened one eye, immediately regretting his decision. The figure had stopped to observe him, closer than he could be comfortable with.

Although, now he could better observe the figure.

It wore an oversized, bright pink hoodie, stained with blood and chunks of flesh in various places, yet seemingly comfortable. Seeing the hoodie, Louis immediately recognized the figure as a Hunter.

The hood covered most of it's face, but what flesh it didn't hide was raw and bloody, most likely claw wounds. It was decidedly feminine in appearance, so he assumed it was female. 'She', had matted brown hair, tangled and coated in flakes of dried blood.

It raised a clawed hand up to him, causing his heart to race. Instead of clawing him though, she gently pawed at his chest, similarly to a cat with a new toy. Louis relaxed slightly, thankful for the lack of hostilities.

But Louis was still very puzzled. Millions of questions raced through his mind. Why didn't she attack? Who was she before infection? Did he know her? What was she like? She chirped quietly, as if attempting to speak.

The Huntress, on the other hand, was just as puzzled. She had just woken up from a nice nap to find a bunch of uninfected inside her den. She sniffed the air, recognizing the scent. It was the same group from earlier!

Hearing a sharp intake of air, she turned to face the source.

Although her eyesight wasn't spectacular, she could clearly sense the heat coming from the uninfected. It smelled of papers and ink, as well as another scent she couldn't quite grasp. It was familiar to her, but she couldn't remember from where. She shook the blankets off, wanting a closer look.

Slowly, she creeped up to it, careful to avoid startling it. The uninfected froze, it's fear apparent. She paused, having gotten close enough to touch it.

The uninfected were strange. They had no claws for protection, nor did they have any special abilities like her brethren. They were more like the many Lessors that roamed the streets, weak on their own, but strong in numbers. They weren't built for fighting like she was.

She reached out to touch him, pausing when the uninfected trembled. He seemed frightened. But why? She wasn't that strong. She couldn't kill her prey, merely wound them.

But they didn't know that. She gently pawed at the uninfected, watching him for a response. Seeing that she wasn't a threat, he relaxed slightly. His fear slowly ebbed away, replaced with a new emotion. Confusion.

 _"Who are you?"_ She asked quietly, wanting to understand. He was still very confused.

Then she thought of something. Perhaps he didn't understand infected tongue? It made sense, since they never seemed to react when her Crying sisters growled at them to leave her alone.

Suddenly, a blinding light shined in her eyes, making her screech in pain. She dove for the blanket pile, yipping in fear.

"You okay Louis? I heard some growling and came to inspect." Bill walked over, helping him up. "I-I'm fine, really. Just.. Startled, that's all." He explained, rubbing his head.

"What was that thing next to you? Didn't look like anything we've seen before." He glanced at the blankets, which were shaking in fear. Louis shrugged. "Don't know. It looked like a Hunter, only smaller. She wasn't attacking though." Before Bill could respond, Francis growled.

"What's with all the racket, people?! Some of us are trying to sleep here." He huffed, irritated from being woken. Zoey yawned as well. "Is it time to go already?"

Bill cursed, rubbing his forehead. "Well, I believe we found the cause of this messy Safe room."

The two perked up, Francis grabbing his shotgun. "Where is he?"

Louis sputtered. "Guys, w-we really don't need t-!" "In the blankets. It's an infected." Bill interrupted, pointing to the pile. Louis paled. They were gonna kill her?! She didn't even do anything!

"Alright you infected son of a bitch, you got until the count of three to get the hell outta here before I pump your ass fulla lead." Francis threatened, cocking his gun for good measure.

 _'You've really done it now, Louis.'_ Louis thought to himself.


	4. Chapter 3: Meeting

Tension hung in the air, the silence so dense you could cut it with a knife. Nobody dared to move, whether out of nervousness or fear Louis didn't know.

Beads of sweat dripped down his face, torn on whether he should help the infected escape alive or watch it die like he had to others before.

On a whim, he made his choice.

"Guys.. We really don't need to kill her..." He broke the silence, wincing at the looks he was given. "And why the hell not, Louis?" Francis demanded, getting increasingly aggressive.

Louis gulped. "W-well... Considering how long we were here, she could have easily killed us before we woke up. She didn't though. She was just curious." He was seriously doubting anyone would believe him. "When you were all sleeping, she came out of hiding and approached me. She was more like a cat if anything, really." He added, rubbing his head out of habit.

Bill frowned, putting Louis's comment into consideration. "Whether that's true or not Louis, it's still an infected. One wrong move and it'll go feral like the rest." He did have a point.

The pile warbled, making a series of clicking sounds and chirps. Almost like a dolphin or bird, only with a course throaty edge to it.

Perhaps she was attempting to communicate somehow. The infected could obviously understand each other, but Louis never thought how. "You think it's trying to tell us something?" Zoey asked skeptically.

"Possibly." He shrugged, unsure.

The Huntress peeked out of her hiding place, whining when she saw Francis pointing his gun at her. Francis just glared at the thing. Who cares if it's trying to talk, it woke him up and that made it a target in his eyes. "Francis, put that away for a second. I want to try something." Louis asked, getting an idea.

Francis groaned, but begrudgingly obliged. Louis approached the Huntress slowly, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. The Huntress warbled suspiciously, but let him approach.

Louis gulped, but continued. He slowly reached out his hand, as if to touch the infected. The huntress chittered softly, tilting her head in interest.

He could see much more detail now that the lights were on. This infected was similar to a Hunter, but much more animalistic.

It's face was slightly more pronounced, the jaws larger than normal for a much bigger bite. It's wrists were bloody, the skeleton protruding out of the skin and fingers transformed into dagger-like claws. Her spine poked through her hoodie, the coccyx jutting out like a makeshift tail. Her feet were effected the worst out of everything.

The bones had shifted dramatically, becoming longer and more dog-like. The heels had large infected growths poking out, pinkish mussel ligaments attached here and there. They were more like paws than actual feet.

The Huntress shifted slightly on her 'paws', imitating Louis's posture as best as she could.

Louis managed to rest his hand on her hoodie, severely tempted to lower it and see what she looked like underneath. The infected purred at his touch, relaxing slightly.

Louis smiled despite himself. A dangerous zombie was just inches away from him, one that could possibly kill him with a single hit, purring like a domesticated cat at his feet.

"Alright, I'm convinced." Zoey chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. The Huntress chittered contentedly, then paused mid-yawn. She sniffed the air, suddenly on full alert. She got back on all fours and began searching around the safe room walls. Stopping in front of the door, she let out a low growl.

Bill followed behind her, armed with his rifle.

Slowly, he reached for his flashlight and turned it on, peering into the darkness outside. His eyes widened as he quickly backed away from the door, nearly tripping over the Huntress.

"There's a god damn Witch outside!" He whispered, fumbling to turn of the light. Sure enough, soft sobbing began echoing through the building.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "How the hell did we not hear it before?!" Louis just shrugged, tired from all the excitement. "Maybe it went for a walk." Zoey muttered to herself.

 _'What did we get ourselves into this time?'_ Bill thought to himself.

He was getting too old for this horse shit.


	5. Chapter 4: Rivalry

Something didn't smell right to Amy. Amy? Who's that?

There was only Bleeding Claw.

All Hunters referred to themselves by different titles, although it sounds like a combination of snarls and yips to uninfected ears.

It smelled like...

Tears?

And something sweet, too. There's only one thing that smells like tears.

A Crying Sister.

But where? She began to search, sniffing the ground for the strongest source.

It came from behind the red door. She growled at the scent.

 _"Go away, Crying One! This is MY territory. Not yours."_ She hissed at the infected. Of course, it didn't respond other than continuing to cry.

Claw huffed. Crying sisters are such a pain to deal with.

Only special flashing sticks could kill them quickly, at least as far as she knew. This gave her an idea. Claw began trotting around the room, sniffing for the flashing sticks.

They have a particular scent, so it was fairly easy to find. She pawed through the pile of assorted guns, looking for one in particular. After searching through the pile, she leaned down and clamped her jaws gently around the barrel of a tactical shotgun and brought it over to the dark colored uninfected.

The uninfected chatted amongst themselves, half skeptical and half impressed. Claw didn't understand what they said, but got the impression that they somewhat trusted her judgment.

Louis carefully picked up the gun, wiping off the barrel with his shirt. "Well, at least it knows how to get rid of the Witch." Zoey shrugged. "It's a smart vampire, that's for sure." Francis snorted, crossing his tattooed arms across his chest. Louis groaned. "Zombies, Francis. They're zombies. Not vampires." He corrected, Francis merely rolling his eyes in response.

"Are we gonna kill the bitch, or what? We don't have all day you know." Francis pointed out, tapping his feet impatiently. "Right. Louis, you lead since you have the shotgun. Zoey, Francis? You two cover him in case he startles her. I'll cover your rear and keep an eye on this oversized mutt of yours." Bill loaded his rifle, adjusting his hat on his head. The others nodded, grabbing ammunition for their guns and slinging medkits over their shoulders.

Claw shifted her weight, uncertain of what to do. She was never part of a pack before. For as long as she could remember, she had been alone. She didn't know how to act, where to stand, so she merely observed.

She watched as the uninfected gathered their flashing sticks and their healing bags. She watched as they cleaned up the area, placing things in piles and unbarring the entrance.

Her mind drifted as she stopped paying attention, and she began to think. Why doesn't she feel the need to slaughter these uninfected like the rest? What made this pack so special? More importantly, why isn't she hungry?

Before she could ponder further, she felt a sharp nudge to her side, snapping her back to reality. She looked up, seeing the alpha motion his weapon toward the exit. "Come on, mutt. Let's not keep the others waiting." Huffed the male, obviously wanting to move forward. Hesitantly, Claw got up, falling behind the group to observe the formation.

The dark uninfected, the young pup-like one, led the group. That made sense, he had the special flashing stick; his energy and eagerness would be useful to the pack's survivability. The beta and omega followed closely behind him, keeping an eye out for other infected.

The alpha kept behind the three, keeping watch for enemies from behind. It was also worth noting that the older alpha moved with a small limp, which slowed the group down slightly.

This would never do; the alpha could lag behind and sustain injuries! Making up her mind, she fell into step behind the alpha male and nudged him forward, making certain that the elder uninfected would be protected.

The crying picked up once more, making Claw snort in irritation. They moved forward, searching carefully for the source.

"Found her!" Yelped the young pup, firing his stick at the Crying one.

She screeched in pain, then cried no more.

A steady silence filled the air, and the group continued forward, laying waste to everything in their way.

Claw leapt forward, snapping her jaws around a Lesser infected who was sneaking up on the Omega.

The force from her bite immediately snapped the fibula, and eventually the thicker tibia with a sharp crack not unlike a gunshot.

She tugged and twisted her head violently, tearing flesh from broken bones. Tearing off the limb, she then plunged her claws through the infected's chest, and moved on to another target. This continued for a good half hour and the group made great progress.

Then Claw noticed the unmistakable stench of a Hurler and whined. It's vomit would attract a swarm of Lessors and slow the pack down! And besides, she'd rather not have to leave her hood out in the falling water to remove the scent. Carefully, she began to sniff for the place it was strongest.

The Hurler groaned and burbled quietly, unintelligibly babbling as it moaned in pain. Claw was able to pin the source down to a small room, keeping an eye on it while she went to alert the Alpha.

Bill, being a war veteran, was familiar with dogs.

That being said, this Huntress, while somewhat similar, was no German shepherd. He recognized some behaviors, though. Animalistic brutality and efficiency, strong jaw, pecking order assessment, among other details. The main thing he noticed was the fact that this infected seemed to be able to sense other special infected long before any of his companions did. That, and the Hunter kept dragging him over to closets with special infected inside them.

' _Guess it regards me as the one in charge,'_ he thought, standing back as he shot a Boomer from a distance. ' _Heh. Now if only Francis got the memo.'_ He smirked to himself, watching as the bloated zombie exploded in a shower of bile.

"Nice one, Bill!" Louis smiled, bashing a common infected with the butt of his gun. Bill nodded in acknowledgment, gunning down a small cluster in return. Soon, the group reached a set of stairs and began climbing. "I hate stairs." Complained Francis, scowling distastefully as he climbed. Louis chuckled. "It's good cardio, Francis!" Francis merely grumbled in response.

Continuing down a hall and up another flight of stairs, the group reached the infirmary portion of the hospital. The place was an absolute nightmare, corpses and body parts everywhere. Dark crimson blood stained the walls and beds, along with other bodily fluids.

The entire place reeked of blood, vomit, and sweat- even worse than the sewers, if that was possible.

Bill wasn't too put off by the sight, but the smell made him gag. "Holy- what the hell happened here?" Francis coughed, the scent making his eyes water. Zoey shrugged, walking closer to examine the police tape.

"My best guess? This is where the first infected came in, spread the disease through the hospital, and then the city. Look at these signs. 'Quarantine- authorized personal only'." Bill nodded. "Makes sense. A hospital wouldn't really have the equipment to deal with an airborne virus, or if it spread like a traditional zombie virus then they possibly didn't know to strap the infected down." He reasoned, watching the Huntress for its reaction.

Claw grunted at the mess, rubbing her snout with her paw. There was an over abundance of smells that made her mind reel in response.

She would need to rely on her other senses here.

Crouching, she slowly took off her hood and ran her claws through her mane. The dark brown locks, once a gorgeous chocolate brown, were tangled and stained with blood. Her eyes were dull and glassy, the irises a dark lavender. The cartilage in her nose had grown into a snout, with two sets of bloodied teeth. The mandible had extended as well, not that she cared. To her, these growths were normal. She peered around with bloodshot eyes, searching for movement beyond the group.

She ignored the odd looks her pack gave her, and trotted ahead.

Soon, she ran into a trio of Pouncing ones. They hissed at her scent, clicking their fangs in warning.

 _"Bleeding Claw, you dare show yourself to prey?"_ Questioned the alpha male, to which Claw bared her teeth.

 _"The prey you speak of are under_ _my_ _protection, Fang, I will not tolerate your insults."_ She threatened, making the Alpha scoff. _"You are not even Alpha in your own pack, Claw! You are weak, blood traitor. Running tail between legs, taking orders from a Beta."_ The others jeered in agreement, throwing insults at her. _"Mutant!"_

 _"Traitor!"_

 _"Coward!"_

 _"Freak!"_

 _"Disappointment!"_

They kept up their onslaught, throwing insult after insult at her, until she had enough.

 _"ENOUGH!"_ She roared, standing on her hind legs to look taller. The trio stepped back, cowed by her feral tone. She flexed her claws in anger, snarling loudly at the three. _"I grow tired of your petty insults, brothers. If you want a fight, then fight. I will show you what a mutant is capable of."_ She growled, causing the Alpha to grin wildly.

 _"Then it is settled. Once the horde has been summoned and defeated by your 'pack', we shall fight to the death. May the better predator survive."_ With that, the rival alpha and its lackeys scattered off, most likely to find a place to wait in ambush.

Claw merely snorted in irritation. They would be nothing but a mere annoyance to her. Who cared if she took orders from the beta? It was the smartest decision seeing as it was only begrudgingly cooperative.

Slinking off with a huff, Claw went to find her pack, killing any commons that dared cross her path.

Quite frankly, she was pissed off. Her mutations may not be nice looking, but they served a purpose.

She wasn't just a mindless animal. She was strong, fast, _**deadly**_ , and she would prove it.

Claw snarled. She'd show them. She'd show them **all**.

But first, she needed to find her pack.


End file.
